


Albert Stops the World

by Kaythehawk



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Aroace albert, Everyone except Les is queer, F/F, F/M, Happy Birthday!, M/M, Soulmate AU, The Refuge, Trans Racetrack Higgins, bitty the smallest and cutest newsie, i love you bitty!, les is my token straight boy, soulmate identifying marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaythehawk/pseuds/Kaythehawk
Summary: Being the adventures of one soulmarkless Albert from the day he joins the newsies until sort of like the middle of the strike? Idk I haven’t finished chapter 3 yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Worldweaver3791](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worldweaver3791/gifts).



> A note on soulmarks in relation to sexual and romantic orientation: a soulmark is only a romantic tie. I like exploring the relationship between sexual and romantic orientations so while Albert is explicitly aroace, others with and without marks may have a disconnect between their romantic and sexual identities. Additionally while I buy into the notion of soulmates being made for each other, I don’t buy into the concept of it making a perfect relationship, so that’s a theme you’ll see frequently as I continue this as a series of one shots tied to assorted characters.
> 
> Dedicated to my best aroace arrow ace, the Russo to my Puck, the Kate to my Clint, and the Albert to my Race, worldweaver3791. Happy Birthday!

Albert knows his parents were soulmates. His father with the symbol of the Bowery Beauties and his mother with a fabric loom. Likewise he knows he has no soulmark. His mother never made a fuss over it, or at least not an obvious one, but she tried not to tell him stories focused on finding a soulmate. His father, on the other hand, often called him a waste of space and air, would say he'd never amount to anything with no mate to care for and be cared by.

Yes, Albert knows his parents are soulmates. He also knows that being soulmates doesn't mean his parents had a good relationship. His father drank too much and he knew his mother brought home men when he was out playing in the streets. He'd heard hushed and not so hushed conversations when he should have been asleep. Conversations about his lack of mark being a product of his mother's whoring. Conversations on why that whoring was necessary because _someone_ drank the rest of the family's income away. Being soulmates didn't protect his mother from the first slap, and it didn't stop his father when he left for the last time. Having a soulmate didn't protect his mother from the pox. It didn't stop her from dying.

Soulmates didn't seem like some magical thing to Albert.

With no mother, no father, and no family that wanted to associate with someone without a soulmark even if the person in question is an eight-year-old boy, Albert ends up on the street. And then in the Refuge for stealing not long after that.

His father used to threaten him with the Refuge. Now Albert understands why. Snyder tracks their soulmarks and the look on his face when Albert said he didn't have one would haunt him until he dies. Snyder isolates him from the others, gives him harder chores, and belts him over slight infractions.

Six months later he stumbles out, terrified of his own markless body and jumping at every shadow.

"Hey! Kid!" a voice says. Albert flinches but turns to find a boy around his age running toward him. He feels like he should know the boy but can't pinpoint why. "Hey, you got anywhere to go?"

Albert shakes his head.

"You got any interest in selling papes?"

"Papes?" Albert asks in a small voice.

"Newspapers," the boy says.

"Will it keep me out of there?" Albert nods at the Refuge.

"It's a good start," the boy says.

"Sure, I'll do it."

"Follow me," the boy says. He leads Albert through a convoluted series of back alley ways and rooftops until they reach a corner where a boy a few years older than them is selling papers. "Jack, this is the kid I was tellin' ya about, the one the Spider hates."

"You got a name kid?" the older boy asks with a smile his mom and her coworkers would have called charming on an adult.

"Albert Da Silva," Albert says.

"I's Jack Kelly an' this is Racetrack," Jack says, "You wait here with me until the evening edition an' then we'll teach ya ta sell."

Albert nods and takes a seat on a nearby stoop to watch Jack work. The older boy makes selling look like an art form. His headlines seem tailored to his target and nearly every call results in at least one sell. Girls and boys walking with their parents and older siblings all seem charmed by Jack. Once the last paper's sold, though, it's like a switch is flipped and suddenly everyone with money avoids the young boy.

"Come on kid, let's split lunch," Jack says.

He leads Albert to an eatery almost overflowing with boys and girls around their age and older. A delighted chorus of "Cowboy!" goes up as the kids recognize Jack. He greets many of them by name while leading Albert to the older kids.

"Hey Argyle!" Jack calls. A sixteen-year-old boy nods at Jack. "Got a new kid here, Race says he's fresh from the Refuge. One of Spider's punching bags."

"You good to show him the ropes?" Argyle asks.

"Yeh," Jack says.

"Kid's yours then," Argyle says.

Jack leads Albert back to a group of boys.

“Alright, you already know Racetrack, then there’s Mike, Ike, Specs, Jojo, and Kid Blink,” Jack says. “Jojo an’ the twins are full fledge newsies, the rest a ‘em are littles like you.”

“What’s a little?” Albert asks.

“It means even when we’re selling alone, one of the newsies is watching out for us,” Race says. “And new littles always sell partnered with a newsie, but new newsies don’t always sell partnered.”

“Racer hates being called a little,” Jack says.

“I’s been a newsie as long as you have! You ain’t a little anymore but I is, it ain’t fair!” Race says.

“You were also half my size when you started,” Jack says. “He was so tiny; the older guys wouldn’t mind having to double bunk with him at first because they hardly noticed he was there. Then they learned this vicious little shit kicked in his sleep.”

Race has a proud smile on his face which makes Albert wonder if Race didn’t intentionally kick the newsies to get what he wanted.

“I like being a little, it’s like I still has brothers an’ sisters,” Kid Blink says as their food is placed in front of them along with glasses of water.

Jack places half a sandwich in front of Albert and keeps half a sandwich for himself. Albert pokes at the sandwich a moment and then consciously makes himself pick it up and take a bite. His stomach wants food, but after scarfing down a loaf of bread from the nuns almost as soon as he got out of the Refuge and immediately throwing it back up, he’s learned to be hesitant around food. He can see a concerned look on Kid Blink’s face, but notices that Jack, Race, and Specs seem to understand why he’s hesitant.

“Tha’s it, small bites an’ lots a water,” Jack says, “You’ll bounce back soon enough.”

Albert nods, trusting Jack to have gone through this or watched others go through it before. Their table is one of the last to clear out with Albert wrapping up the quarter of a sandwich left and taking it with him.

Jack leads the other children to a distribution yard. It’s busy and loud and Albert tries to stick close to either Jack or Race and out of everyone else’s way. There’s a heavyset man throwing stacks of papers into piles in a wagon and a young man herding the boys into a neat line along the wall starting at a set of bars along a counter. The newsie Jack had addressed as Argyle is at the front of the line talking to another newsie.

“Alrigh’ we’s gonna start you off easy with...thirty papes. Evening ain’t the best selling edition of the pape, but if you sell at least twenty five papes you can get fifty papes tomorrow morning. Then you can start earning your bunk and food,” Jack explains. “First papes are on me.”

“You don’t have to spend your money on me, I ain’t worth it,” Albert says.

“You is worth it, but I know us street boys don’ want no charity; you can pay me back when you’s established as a newsie right an’ proper,” Jack says.

“Okay,” Albert says. A church bell tolls four and a man appears behind the counter. The line begins to move

“That’s Weasel, he sells us the papes. You never buy more papes than you think you can sell ‘cause he won’t buy them back, but you can’t buy less than fifty papes in the morning to make lodgings an’ it’s easier if you sell two editions,” Jack explains. “You gotta be here wifin an hour an’ a half o’ Weasel opening the counter or you ain’t getting your papes. An that ain’t no good.” By now they’d reached the front of the line. “Sixty papes, Weasel.”

“It’s Wiesel,” the man says, but counts out sixty newspapers and passes them to Jack. Jack slings them on his shoulder and leads Albert a bit aways from the crowd to pick out a bag. “Can you read?”

Albert shakes his head.

“Not a problem, we’ll teach you soon enough. It ain’t a required skill or nothing, just makes it easier to sell,” Jack takes one of the papers from the stacks. “The main headline is advertising Sunday’s pape so tha’s useless. There was a fire in Hell Gate with dynamite involved; a missing girl found at Coney Island; library burned, that’ll get those educated types in a tizzy; a stabbing in Brooklyn an another on the L; poisoned clams. A few good headlines we could exaggerate,” Jack says as he flips through the pages. “Go get yourself a bag an’ we’ll get you stocked up.”

Albert gets a bag and he and Jack split the stack of papers, rolling them so they’ll be easier to grab from their bags. Jack leads Albert away from the distribution center by nearly ten blocks before he stops and says “Alright, see that corner there? Go shout ‘Extra, extra, fire in Hell Gate, dynamite involved’ and see how many papes you can sell before I give you this signal,” Jack waves his hand in the air.

“Extra! Extra! Fire in Hell Gate, dynamite involved!” Albert shouts. A few people converge on him and trade a penny for a paper each. Jack’s signal goes up and the two run. The rest of the evening goes similarly with Jack suggesting a headline, both of them selling, and then running after about a minute or two. After a few hours, Jack leads them to a building he calls the lodging house.

Race greets them at the door, asking how Albert’s first day was and leading him up the stairs to a bathroom.

Albert freezes in the doorway. There’s no private changing areas. Or, well, there’s two, but Race is stripping down next to the boys and he’s built different from the rest so it doesn’t seem like anyone chooses to use the private changing rooms. His breath catches in his throat. If he uses them, the other boys might wonder why. What if they find out why? What if they kick him to the street? What if they beat him? What if they hand him back to Snyder? Snyder will kill him if he goes back to the Refuge.

“Hey, you alright?” the now redressed Race asks, a hand on Albert’s shoulder.

“I can’t…” Albert says.

“What? Oh, no Al, no one’s gonna care, but no one will care if you use the private rooms either,” Race says. He grabs a wet washcloth and guides Albert into one of the private changing rooms. “Get cleaned up, I’ll stand guard.”

“Thank you.” Albert whispers.

Even though Jack is his mentor, Racetrack easily becomes his closest friend in the lodging house at that moment. After being locked up together, Race is the only newsie who knows Albert doesn't have a soulmark. As time passes he sees Jack's writing on his shoulder blade, Sniper's brass knuckles crossing over his shoulder like someone grabbed him, Racetrack's slingshot over his heart, and Argyle's pink feather boa snaking across his waist. Like Race promised that first night, the boys don't push the issue about him using the private changing rooms. In fact, he doesn't think he's heard a single newsie ask another about their soulmark, though every once in a while he'd notice a pair go from sleeping separately to sleeping in one of the pushed together bunks.

Being a newsie isn't easy, but it's easier than keeping an eye out for the cops and it's less painful than starving. Which makes it a better life than what he'd been living before Snyder picked him up. So he keeps quiet about not having a soul mark, out of fear they'll beat him like Snyder or kick him out and he'll be back where he started.

Eventually the topic of soulmates comes up during his first Christmas with the lodging house. And it's Racetrack's doing.

"Hey Jack!" Race calles across the dining room table. "Were your parents soulmates?"

"Nah, Ma didn't have no soulmark far as I know," Jack says. "Dad did, left her when he met his mate. Think they woulda taken me, but Ma begged to keep me. Ain't never seen Dad again. What about you, Race?"

"Yeah, they were. Al?"

"Yeah, but that didn't stop Dad from leaving," Albert says.

"Ain't that the truth," Mike or Ike says. He hasn't actually figured out the difference between the two yet.

A little while later Albert finds Jack on the fire escape while the younger littles are playing with their gifts. Jack has a sketchbook on his lap, a gift from Argyle who had the kid's name in the gift exchange. Albert's quiet as he watches Jack work on a sketch of a kid he must have seen on the streets.

"You just gonna sit there?" Jack asks after a moment.

"Your mother really didn't have a soulmark?" Albert asks in response.

"Not as far as I know," Jack says. "Ain't no big deal though. She's still my ma an' I loved her."

"What happened to her?" Albert asks.

Jack closes the sketchbook. It's quiet for long enough that Albert doesn't think Jack will answer his question and then, "One of her clients took exception to her not having a soulmark. Or maybe he took exception to her being Irish, or maybe both." He's quiet again and then, "I hate that man. Medda said one of her girls got him with a knife a few months ago. Medda don't got a mark either an don't take kind to that sort of violence." A sideways glance at Albert. "What you thinkin?"

Now it's Albert's turn to be quiet as he mulls over his own thoughts. "I don't got one either."

"That's it?" Jack asks.

"Well don't act like it's no easy thing to say. My dad beat my mother because I didn't have a mark and my family wouldn't take me in for the same reason after Ma died. An Snyder took exception to it," Albert says.

Jack holds his arm out to one side and nods for Albert to come in for a hug. Albert slides in without hesitation. "Yer okay, kid. I promise ain't no one cares about that here. Just like how no one cares 'bout Race or Sniper."

"Fer sure?"

"Fer sure."

It still takes another week or two, but Albert stops hiding when he gets ready in the morning and just like Jack said, no one cared.

A few months after Albert started selling on his own and a few weeks after he stopped hiding his lack of soulmark, he stumbles into the bunk room after a rough day of selling to find a new boy in the bunk under Jack's. A mop of blond hair wearing Jack's old shirt with a crutch across the foot of the bed.

"Name's Albert," He says, leaning against the bunks next to the new boy.

"Charlie," the boy says.

"Nice ta meet ya. Jack bring you in?"

"Can ya tell?" Charlie asks.

"He's somethin' of a bleedin' heart," Albert says, "Your limp real or fake?"

"Why would someone fake a limp? It's hard enough survivin' on the streets," Charlie says.

"You're alright, Crutchie," Albert says. He ruffle's the blond's hair and heads back to his own bunk.

Jack pulls him aside early the next morning. "Have you met Charlie?"

"Crutch kid?" Albert clarifies and Jack nods. "Yeah, I met him las' night."

"Good, I just wanted to give you a warning, he says he don't have a soulmark. He do, but I guess his soulmate was a jerk? Or...I don't know, I don't really wanna upset him by askin', just he ain't makin' fun of you if you hear him say he don' have a mark," Jack says.

"Thanks for the warning," Albert says.

"You good?"

"I'll be."

“Go get your papes.”


	2. 1898

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smolest newsie is introduced.

Albert is probably one of the first boys apart from Jack to notice the little girl following Dollface. She can't be anymore than three years old and clings to the back of the twelve year old's skirt. Dollface looks exhausted and both are somehow already dirty.

"Dollface!" he calls out and waves the girl over. "You okay?"

She shakes her head, "But the headline will probably be good even if it ain't a war one. Three buildings burnt to the ground, this is Elizabeth, her parents didn't make it out. Jack said you might want to help with her since she's got no mark far as we can tell."

"Yeah," Albert says. He thinks back to how those with younger siblings are to all the littles and crouches down to the little girl's level. "Hey Elizabeth, I's Albert." She shrinks back a little bit but does shake his offered hand. "Do you want to learn how to sell papes?" She shakes her head "No? Why's that?"

"I want my mommy," the girl answers.

"I know," Albert says, "Can I let you in on a secret?" he leans a little closer to the girl and lowers his voice to say, "My mama died five years ago an' there's still days I want her back too." It's a risk, but Albert puts on a sad face. "Your mama probably doesn't want you out selling, but she'd want you in the Refuge or dead even less, so what do you say you stick with us today and try selling papes? You might enjoy it, but if you don't, we can try and find you something you like better." He waits for Elizabeth to nod before standing up again and counting his funds to see if he has enough to buy extra papers for Elizabeth.

"Here," Dollface says, passing over twenty five cents. "It's from our new newsie fund."

"Fifty papes is a lot for a little," Albert notes.

"Between us helping, I think she can handle it." Dollface motions for Elizabeth to take a seat on one of the crates around the selling yard and then gets in line for her own papers.

Albert shrugs but gets a hundred papers. He grabs two bags and sits down next to Elizabeth, holding one out to her. She puts it over her shoulder cautiously.

"Alright Beth, first things first, let's get ya squared away with some papes," he divides the stack unevenly, passing a stack of maybe twenty papers to Elizabeth. "Now watch me, we're gonna roll them so they're easier to grab from your bag." He shows her how to hold the paper to roll it so the headline is still facing out. Once 19 of her papers are rolled and nearly all of his are as well, he stops her and says, "Now let's check out the headlines."

There's the expected war headline but in the corner of the front page and above the fold is the building fire. He tucks the buiding fire in his mind as a selling point that he won't call too close to Elizabeth, but that he might use to drive customers to her. 'Buy a pape from a victim of the fire' would tug heartstrings of any woman with money and with how miserable Elizabeth looks, she might actually pull it off. She's gonna be a gold mine if she likes selling. Like Jack did on his first day selling, Albert gives Elizabeth headline ideas

"Ready?" Dollface asks as she approaches the pair. Elizabeth immediately jumps up and clings to Dollface's skirt again but Albert doesn't take it to heart. He was the same way with Jack during his early days and he'd been eight years old and fresh from the Refuge, not three and dealing with the traumatic aftermath of watching the only life he'd ever known burn down.

The trio stick close together until they find a decent selling spot near one of the markets not too far from the lodging houses. Of course like any good newsie, they're selling as they walk, but as far as Albert's concerned, those papers are part of Elizabeth's bunch so he puts the money in a different pocket.

Elizabeth is painfully shy, she continues to hide behind Dollface for much of the morning but warms up to Albert again around lunch time when he carries her to Jacobi’s to meet up with Jack's crew.

"AY! Albo's got a little!" Race shouts as soon as he sees Elizabeth tucked against Albert's shoulder and halfway to dreamland despite it only being lunch time.

"Shhh, ya gonna wake her with yer yelling!" Albert says. "Her house burnt down last night, I don' know how much sleep she got."

"'ere, put her in the booth," Jack says quietly, motioning to one of the few booths in the diner. Albert lowers Elizabeth into the booth with Jack's help and gets the young girl situated.

"Sit tight, Bit, I's gonna get us some food and then I'll be back. You get some sleep," Albert whispers to her.

The boys are trying to contain their rowdiness, which he's grateful for. Elizabeth curls against his side as soon as he sits back down next to her. He coaxes a few bites of sandwich into her and then lets her fall asleep while he eats his own lunch.

"Heard ya got a little," Mike says. He sits up straighter in the seat across from Albert to see Elizabeth and lets out a whistle. "That's a little little."

"Lay off Mike," Albert says. The other boy grins and abandons the seat across from Albert for any other boy to take to see the newsie's little. Albert's barely afforded a moment's peace between Jack's newsies and Dollface's newsies wanting to see Elizabeth. He ends up wrapping up half of his sandwich and all of Elizabeth's and stuffing them in his bag at the end of lunch.

The two hit the streets again to sell off the last of the morning papers before evening edition. Elizabeth's papers sell out soon enough and, not wanting the girl on the streets any longer than she has to be, Albert swings by the newsgirls lodging house to drop her off before picking up the evening edition.

The routine of Albert taking Elizabeth for the morning edition and dropping her off before evening edition continues for several days until Albert starts to notice something about his little.

"Race, I need your help!" Albert says, flopping on his best friend's bunk.

"Ge' off ya lump," Race says, shoving at Albert.

"Bitty's hair is messy, an I don' know what to do," Albert says as he rolls off Race's legs. "Her hair's curly like yours."

"Ya just need ta brush it out with ya fingers," Race says. "They's probably trying to use a brush at her lodging house and it's probably pulling and frizzing an she don' like that. Your little seems extra sensitive to things."

"What should I do about the tangles?" Albert asks.

"When it's long like hers, you can coax them near the ends and then hold above 'em and comb 'em out with your fingers, that should stop the worst of the pulling on her head," Race says. "Worst comes to worst, you cut 'em out."

"Yous the best, Race!" Albert says. "How was Sheepshead?"

"Same ol' same ol', my boy took me on a lunch date," Race says with a grin.

"Oh?" Albert asks.

"With fresh bread and everything," Race says. "We spent the afternoon enjoying the races and he stayed nearby to sell evening edition."

"You two's cute," Albert says.

"Damn right we is."

"Language!" Jack shouts from halfway across the bunk room.

Race yells something back in Italian that may or may not be rude. Albert only grew up speaking English and Race had been in the lodging house long enough that he may not remember the ruder parts of his first language. Of course, Race is gifted enough to make even the most innocent Italian sound rude. The two boys collapse back on the bunk laughing.

Race starts up a card game among the older boys which Finch and Buttons, the latest mated pair in the lodging house, are quick to join in on.

Albert makes sure to get up early enough to swing by the girls' lodging house before morning distribution to get Elizabeth, who he'd taken to calling Bitty. Dollface and her little, Smalls, are waiting out front with Bitty and Dollface looks to be at her wits end.

"Albert, you gotta do something," Dollface says as she passes Bitty off. Albert kneels so he's eye level with the girl.

"Hey Bitty, we gotta do your hair now, alright?" Albert asks.

"No," Bitty says.

"What if I just use my fingers? No brushes an no combs," Albert says. "Look, I'll even do it on me first," he runs his fingers through his hair and, unexpectedly, snags on a knot but works through it. "See."

"I guess," Bitty says. Albert pulls her closer to himself and begins gently working his fingers through her curls like Race had instructed him last night. When he hits a particularly bad patch, he makes soft noises until his fingers work free and then continues working the patch until it's snag free.

"There ya go! Now you're a right smart looking newsie!" Albert says once her hair has been tamed. She grins at him and throws her arms around his neck.

"You did i' like mama did!" Bitty says.

"Well I had help from Racetrack," Albert says.

"Does he really sell in Sheepshead?" Bitty asks.

"Most days."

"How'd he get Brooklyn ta le'im sell on 'ier turf?"

"They didn't wanna let him sell at first, but he worked his way under their skin," Albert says. "No one can hate Race for too long. An anyway, he's Spot Conlon's soulmate. Brooklyn'd be stupid to beat up their leader's soulmate just ‘cause he’s a ‘hattan newsie sellin on Brooklyn turf.”

"I don' has a soulmate," Bitty says.

"Me either, but it's okay, none of the newsies care, and if anyone tries ta give ya shit over it, you send them to me an' Jack," Albert says.

"Albert, don't curse in front of the little," Dollface says.

Albert winks at Bitty who giggles in response.

"If she uses it around Miss Elise and gets kicked out of the lodging house, I ain't responsible for her," Dollface says.

"Arigh', ya hear that Bits? If I says a curse, you ain't ta be repeating it around adults or scabs," Albert says. "Yous ta be a good girl who don't know no curses and keeps her housing." Bitty nods her head with the utmost seriousness. "Atta girl."

He holds his hand out for Bitty to take and then he, his little, Dollface, and the rest of the Manhattan girls walk to the distribution center.

“Race! Race!” Bitty says, jumping over to the newsie in question. “Is it true your soulmate is the King of Brooklyn?”

Race crouches down on Bitty’s level and says, “Sure is!”

“Wow, that must make you the King of New York!” Bitty says.

“I like the sound of that,” Race says with a grin. Albert groans from behind Bitty, already seeing his friend’s ego inflate.

“Do you think Brooklyn would let me visit sometime?” Bitty asks.

“I don’t see why not. One Sunday you, me, an Albo will take the afternoon in Brooklyn with Spot an’ probably York,” Race says. Bitty hugs Race tightly for a second before jumping back to Albert’s side.

He takes care to position her as far away from the Delancey brothers as possible. Sniper may be a Delancey soulmate, but that didn’t seem to earn any newsies any perks when it came to Oscar and rumour has it Sniper’s been distancing himself from Morris recently which has left Morris in a foul mood. A foul mood he doesn’t want seeing taken out on his little.

 

LATE AUGUST or  EARLY SEPTEMBER

Albert looks down to where a tired Bitty is holding onto his pants while sucking her index finger. Her selling bag is empty but still draped on her shoulder, the last four papers transferred to his bag when she started drooping an hour ago and her shaw, needed this morning but not any longer, is bunched between her arm and chest like a blanket. In short, she is cute as sin and it has been nothing but profitable. Not only are women almost all stopping to get a pape, a few of them are paying extra pennies and telling him to keep the change "for your little sister." These extra coins he makes sure to put in the pocket he reserved for Bitty's funds. But if the women didn't specify it was for Bitty, he put it in his pocket with the expectation he'd be using it on a Christmas gift for her.

"Alright Bitty-bear, that was our last paper," he says after his last customer leaves. "You ready to go back to the lodging house?" Bitty nods and then reaches her arms up. Albert crouches down so she can wrap them around his neck and lifts her up effortlessly. Together they make their way back to the girls' lodging house.

There's no one waiting outside when the pair get there so Albert takes the stairs two at a time and lets himself into the first floor. Miss Elise is behind the front desk and Dollface is leaning against the visitor side.

"Hello Albert, finally finish selling?" Miss Elise asks.

"Yeah, give me a minute," Albert says as he sits Bitty on the counter and digs into his pocket for her funds. "Here's eighteen cents for food and lodging," that he passes to Miss Elise, "and a quarter for her papes tomorrow," that he repockets because as Bitty's big, he's responsible for buying her papers until she's old enough to get her own, "And between all the sypathetic ladies near the end when she was getting sleepy, she's got another ten cents of profit for you to put in her savings, Miss Elise."

Like at the boys lodging house, the girls have savings boxes that came with interest, but unlike the boys', it was only 2%. Also unlike the boys, it wasn't 'locked', meaning it could be added to and taken away from but as long as money remained in the box, that money earned the interest. With the boys, if they removed any money, they forefit interest on the whole lot, not just the amount removed.

He liked the girls' system better and always tries to make sure at least a penny a day went into Bitty's box so she has funds for clothing and emergencies. Bitty's too young to care about money right now anyway, which makes it easier to do.

"Alright Bitty, time to go with Dollface," Albert says as he shakes her shoulder a bit to wake her up. Bitty shakes her head against his arm. "No? You're gonna hurt Dollface's feelings. Come on Bitty-bear, you knows I can't stay here with you so you gotta be a big girl and go with my friend."

"Don' wanna," Bitty mutters.

"I know sweet girl, but you can't come with me to Duane Street and I can't stay here, and I ain't letting you spend the night on the street just sos we can stay together. It ain't safe for you on the street at night, Bit-bit. Please go with Dollface," Albert says.

"Pwomise you'll get me 'mowow?" Bitty asks.

"I promse you'll see me in line at morning distribution at the very latest," Albert says.

"Okay. Bwing 'Ace?" Bitty asks.

"I'll try ta bring Race with me," Albert says. Satisfied, Bitty allows herself to passed off to Dollface who has a confused but entertained look on her face.

"Sometimes I forget you two aren't actually siblings," Dollface says.

"Shadup," Albert says.


	3. 1899

The hardest thing for Albert is seeing every injury his friends sustained when they fell before the bulls. Race's black eye, Specs' loose frames, Buttons' cut, Finch's fractured ribs, Sniper's knee and Les's broken arm. He thinks everyone feels bad about Les's broken arm. Davey looks miserable knowing Jack and Crutchie are missing.

"At least Les was the only little present," Elmer says from his spot curled up against Albert in his bunk. His head is wrapped in a bandage to cover where a club had split it open.

"Les shouldn't have been there," Albert says.

"He wasn't gonna leave Smalls, an' anyway Davey's responsible for him," Elmer says.

"Yeah, I know, but bringing your little to a strike? Ain't smart," Albert says.

"You woulda been there with bells on when you were Les's age," Ike says from Elmer's other side.

"I'm a horrible example. I's worse than Jack," Albert says.

"Anyone seen Race?" Romeo asks.

"Went to Brooklyn," Albert calls back. He's furious at Spot for letting Race get soaked. "Said he'd meet us at Jacobi's."

"Hope Spot takes one look at him an' joins us," Specs says from his bunk with Mike.

"Elmer, stop hogging Albert," Buttons says. Albert rolls his eyes at Elmer but leaves the bunk to join Buttons and Finch in theirs. Along the way he checks in on the other newsies with a hand on a head, shoulder, or arm. Buttons pulls Albert between himself and Finch as soon as he's close enough. It's a bit weird. Finch's ribs do allow him to continue to bind because of the bandages needed for his ribs, but Buttons didn't suffer any chest or back injuries so he's already unbound for the night and therefore squishier than usual.

"How are you two holding up?" Albert asks.

"Could be worse," Buttons says. "We don't have littles."

"Oh fuck!" Albert drops his head back on the pillow. "Someone with a little who ain't too visibly beat go tell them we's okay."

"I got it," Mike says, jumping down from his bunk with Specs and leaving the room.

The newsies stumble out of the lodging house around noon to find the girls already gathered. Albert braces himself as Bitty almost flings herself into his arms and immediately starts crying.

"Hey Bitty-bear," Albert says. "I's okay."

"No you're not," Bitty cries, "You got hurt."

"Yeah, but I ain't dead or in the Refuge," Albert says. "Come on, up you get," he crouches down just a bit and nudges Bitty toward his good arm. She jumps and wraps her legs around his waist as he stands back up and braces her.

Mike and Ike have their littles, Peanuts and One Lung Pete, on their backs while Jojo is carrying Stars on his hip. Squeak lives up to her name and squeaks as she hugs Henry real quick. Marbles, all of eight years and looking lost without his newsie, clings desperately to nine-year-old Nibs' hand. They're the youngest soulmate pair in the lodging house. Nibs' newsie, Kenny, has taken responsibility for both until they can get Crutchie out of the Refuge. Scrapper and Sphinx, brothers just over a year apart, hide behind their newsies, Sniper and Elmer. Bitty's the youngest of the lot by a few years. She's no more than four now and the next closest would be Sphinx, Peanuts, and Lung at seven. Although no one will say it outloud, it's understood they prefer older littles. A seven year old selling on the street could be a family that needs help, but younger than that and there's always some sort of tragedy that put them there. Albert holds Bitty closer, remembering the tenement fires that brought them together just about a year previous.

"You want me to do your braids when we get to Jacobi's?"

"Please," Bitty says, holding up the ribbons in her hands.

“Alright, we’ll go to Jacobi’s, braid your hair, and get some lunch,” Albert says. And privately hopes to himself they can afford it. Well, he knows Bitty can, but he doesn’t want to have to dip into her savings and he’s two weeks shy of getting interest on his box, to remove his funds now is...a devastating thought. With the interest he’d have enough to get Bitty a nice birthday gift and get some yarn to knit gloves for some of the boys.

——————————————————————

Davey sits next to Albert at Jacobi's while Race extols the wonders of being famous after Kath's...almost pathetic attempt at cheering them up.

"What's Jack's soulmark?" Davey asks.

An unknown word in an unknown language. "Dunno," Albert says instead, "Never asked." Technically true, none of the Newsies ask, they just use their eyes in the showers and while changing. Only people with parents and homes ask.

"Really?"

"Figure it's none of my business. Newsies don' really talk 'bout soulmarks," he says. Which is true enough, but again, that's because they use their eyes. "Race got a slingshot, Spot got a cigar, they's mates." He'd been curled up with almost every pair while everyone was patching everyone else up after the strike. But he was there when Race and Spot figured their shit out so it sticks out more than Elmer and Mike suddenly sleeping in the same bunk.

"What about you? What's yours?" Davey asks.

"Don't got one," Albert says, vaguely annoyed at the line of questioning.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Wel you don't..." Davey didn't seem to know how to continue.

"Don't have someone to chase after? I ain't Race or Buttons, I don' like runnin," Albert says. "Far as I care, I's glad I don' have a mate; while you an' the rest of the world seems ta always be lookin, I gets ta settle in and get to know all the newsies, their likes and dislikes, an' be the best damn friend they've ever had. 'At's better than having a soulmate if ya ask me."

"Suppose I never thought of it that way before," Davey says.

"Not many do," Albert says. He finishes off his glass of water and goes over to sit with Race instead.

"What's up Al?" Race asks.

"Nothin'. How's Spot?"

"Not happy, but I told him this is what he gets for not joining us," Race says. "Brooklyn is officially on strike."

"So now every borough's on strike," Albert says.

"Yup." Race seems pleased with himself. "Almost worth the black eye."

"Almost?"

"Well, I don't like messin up this beautiful face," Race says.

"You're full of shit."

"Careful, Bitty could hear ya," Race says.

"She's on the other side of the room dancing with Kath," Albert says.

"I's convinced littles have a sixth sense for when their newsie's up to something they don't want the little involved with. The amount of times Rebel's knocked on the door while..."

"And that's as far as that conversation going," Albert says.

——————————————————————

“Bitty...where did you get that dress?” Albert asks. The top of Bitty’s dress is a pink, red, and white plaid, and the skirt is a dark green. The colours sound like they should match reasonably well but...don’t.

“Crutchie gave it to me for Christmas!” Bitty says.

“It’s the nicest one she owns,” Dollface adds as she walks by, “And she wanted to look nice for the rally.”

“Oh Bitty,” Albert mumbles.

The rally is, of course, a big deal. Every borough and neighborhood is represented even though the lines are a bit blurred as cross-borough soulmates seek each other out to sit together. Race is perched on the edge of Medda’s stage telling an animated story to Rebel and York. Davey and Spot are off to one side of the stage discussing something with the diva herself. The girls all split off to their respective boroughs to check in. Albert then leads Bitty over to where Lower Manhattan’s Littles are gathered.

“How are things looking?” he asks Mike

“Last I heard from Specs, Sniper ain’t checked in yet,” Mike says as Peanuts takes Bitty’s hand and has her join him and the other littles in a game of marbles on the floor between the last row of chairs and the stage. Albert keeps one eye on her in case she gets overwhelmed, but for now she seems content.

“He knew about the strike, yeah?”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss with the buzz everyone’s been in about it. I heard Les wanted to make it his and Smalls first date,” Mike says. “There’s concern Morris got to him and is keeping him away ‘cause something bad’s gonna happen. That’s what Davey and Spot are discussing with Miss Medda right now.”

“Shit,” Albert says.

“Ike, Kenny, and I are keeping an eye on the littles in case we gotta get them out of here quick.”

“Count me in on that.”

“We figured with how devoted you are to Bitty.”

Sniper does show up shortly before the rally is set to begin to the relief of the others. As it turns out, however, it wasn’t the Delancey brothers, but Jack they should have been worried about.

“Mike, get Bitty to Dollface,” Albert says as the shock wears off and then takes off after Jack.

It takes a moment for him to clear the chaos the rally is descending into and another to reach the streets, but his time as Jack’s little taught him where he’d most likely find the missing strike leader turned scab. He turns down an alley without a second thought.

"Jack!" Albert yells. The boy stops and turns to face him.

"What, Albert?" Jack snaps.

"Why'd ya go to Pulitzer?"

"Not like I had much choice."

"Don't feed me that bullshit, we's honest."

"Thought we could negotiate. Instead..."

"He threatened us."

"And Davey and Davey's family," Jack said. "An' Kath's his daughter."

"I woulda done the same." Albert scuffs his shoe on the ground.

"Fer sure?"

"Fer sure, we's family. They've got marks an' I don't," Albert says.

Jack rushes to Albert's side at his words. He grabs the younger newsie by his shoulders and says, "Don't you ever count yourself less for your lack of mark. You's worth the same as any of the boys to me. An' I know the others feel the same," he says, "Sos I never wants to hear you say you'd sacrifice yourself just because you ain't got no mate. 'Cause you got a family what loves ya and ain't one of those boys would wants ya ta suffer sos they can be happy, ya hear?"

Albert nods and then finds himself wrapped in a hug from Jack. He returns the hug with equal strength.

Jack sighs and steps back, "How mad's everyone?"

"Real mad. Especially Spot and Davey," Albert says.

"What do I do, Al?" Jack asks as he slides to the ground.

"Man, why does everyone always have to come to me for advice?" Albert asks.

"Because Crutchie's in the Refuge," Jack answers.

"Ain't right," Albert says. "Kid don't deserve that."

"No one deserves Snyder," Jack says.

"'Cept the Delanceys."

"Ehhh...I'll give ya that these days," Jack says.

Albert slides down the wall next to him and the pair sit in silence for several long moments.

"I'm gonna have to end this strike with a victory, ain't I?" Jack asks.

"Only way the boys'll forgive ya, I think," Albert says.

“So uh...Bitty’s dress...”

“A Christmas gift from Crutchie,” Albert says.

“Sometimes I wonder about him,” Jack says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...sorry this took almost a month to get out. I’m honestly not happy with it, but I felt I could devote myself to other works until I finished this one. I might go back and rewrite this for Bitty’s birthday next year.


End file.
